What is it about tattoo artists, that seems to make them all soooo bloody moody?
I have 3 tattoo’s and the ink from all 3 was injected by a miserable, awkward, temperamental, mildly spoilt and very un-smily bloke!
They don’t like it when you dare to question their design…God Forbid! (It’s only a commitment on the same time scale of marriage and the ‘snip’, except worse, as no reversal operation that actually works properly is available)…And even though each artist has had no problem telling me that my design was aesthetically shite, they all really did not like to be second guessed on theirs.
Such double standards 😉
When I told the last one that I didn’t want a giant heart on my ridiculously small wrist, which was very clear from the picture I drew (containing 2 LITTLE hearts)…He of course decided that my design was ‘shite’ (Shocker) and he slammed 2 pictures down on the desk and said –
It’s that one or that one!
I said OK, who’s bloody wrist is this? Actually I didn’t…that was what I wanted to say. If I’m honest, he was so scary I pointed to the 2nd design with a quivering finger, and all I could manage as a defence was a filthy look, and an elephant stomp up the stairs, to meet yet another ultra moody body marker…
I recommend they all gate-crash a staff training session at John Lewis! (How bloody wonderful are the staff in there?…Very, I can tell ya)…They may charge 8 bucks for a notebook, but they sure do make you feel like a valued little soul, the second you parade through their shiny doorways, where 100’s of informed servers stand tall, greeting all and sundry with a beaming smile, and all armed with more than one word answers at their disposal!
I feel like my ownership of ovaries puts me at a disadvantage, before I’ve even opened my mouth
I conclude that they are all moody, ‘cos when they set out as amateur artists, they were ‘fully alpha male’d up’ and they got to draw angry-looking bulldogs all day, along with outlines of words like ‘hate’ or ‘I have balls and this makes me great’…
Then us women came along and gatecrashed testosterone ink-ville, and they are now forced to spend their days painting fairies and butterflies onto women’s belly buttons and lower backs (;-)). I think the final nail in the coffin probably came when they had to wise up to the fact that men are pussy’s 😉
No woman I know has barely murmured a sound whilst being stabbed with needles, let alone fainted with the pain!!!
I have been to 4 different studios, all in the hope of finding a jolly soul at the reception desk, only to be met with another rather unfriendly, fully covered in ink man, who loves to say NO as often as possible…it’s a wonder they manage to stay in business
They represent the final batch of truly proud male chauvinistic sods, who dread hearing the 4 girliest words in the English dictionary
Butterfly, flower, angel and lace!
I say – Suck it up boys, us chicks are keeping you in business too, and you might wanna ‘roll with a convo’ every now and again, you might even enjoy it enough to break out into a smile once a day, and maybe even tie down some repeat business!
If I worked in a shop that sold garters for 250 buckaroonies, I’d be nice to people!